


BOYFRIEND MATERIAL

by kimbapeu_kidding



Category: Jealousy - Monsta X (Music Video), Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 17:10:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimbapeu_kidding/pseuds/kimbapeu_kidding
Summary: you decide to make your signals stronger. it’s bold, but you can’t wait any longer.'don't send me back. please, i don't wanna be friends anymore.'





	BOYFRIEND MATERIAL

**Author's Note:**

> i’m an extremely new monbebe and god knows why i didn’t get hooked onto this wonderful group earlier! ever since i saw him sitting through the members’ lap dances, like a mighty good-looking rock, i’ve admired and respected this guy. maybe, it’s too soon to call him my bias (couldn’t bring myself to write using his actual name, cause right now, it’s ‘shownu’ i’m comfortable with) but when i saw the dance practice video of jealousy, when i saw him looking like that, i knew i had to weave something out of all that boyfriend material, cause damn. 
> 
> wrote this from what i know about him, and he seems to me like this calm, quiet, shy guy who can also totally rise and take control of things when necessary. 
> 
> this was meant to be a drabble, and i might re-edit, but it was fun writing something so cute and light! hope you enjoy reading it~

_The group sat around a table, four men and two women. In a fancy little restaurant, complete with dress codes and ten different spoons laid out. They were friends, mostly. Out of the six, two were sitting on a rickety fence, on the verge of falling into something more. The only thing that kept them from tumbling together was subtlety. The subtlety of the signals they flashed at each other. **  
**_

_That night, the woman was determined to make the light brighter and her lip-licking unmissable. Even her eye-shadow, was a shade darker. In the middle of dinner, one of her guy friends stood up, said- “Excuse me, I really need a smoke. I shall borrow”- he paused, lifted a finger, pointed it at her, and finished, “I shall borrow this one too.” Under normal circumstances, had she not been so desperate, accompanying him would’ve been the only course of action, but now. She smirked._

_The perfect segue-way, she lifted a hand, gesturing to herself. “This one”, she slurred, “belongs to him. Ask him if it’s okay.” The finger was up in the air, pointing to the man she wanted, who blinked and blinked and blinked at her. The guy-friend left to smoke on his own, but not before he had said, “Good, it was about time.”_

_The rest of the night, after that, was a mix of childish excitement on part of her friends and second doubts on hers and what she assumed was confusion, on his. But everything fell in place when she got back home and he was right behind. Clothes got ripped and lips nearly bled, it was exactly what she had wanted. And she got it all, only, only because her signal was strong._

You replayed the scene from that movie over and over. While making your way up the stairs to his apartment, as you turned the spare key he’d gifted you, even when you pushed open the door, getting greeted by emptiness cause he was at dance practice, the entire time, you played it in your head.

Crashing on the couch, you let out a whine. The sudden realisation earlier that day, which opened your eyes to all that you were missing out on because of the extreme subtlety you maintained when it came to anything _Shownu-related_ , left you feeling tired. And stupid. And all things bad.

Right then, a call sounded.

“I need a boyfriend”, your friend whined the moment the phone reached your ear. “I need someone to kiss my stress away and whisper random compliments into my ear and hold me when I’m having one of my pointless breakdowns.”

“I need Show-“, you corrected yourself, “-a boyfriend. I need someone to play with my hair and give me huge ass hoodies and call me princess.”

“I need-

“-someone to slap my butt.”

“-to send me selfies.”

“-to sing me to sleep.”

“-to punch when I’m pissed.”

“-a lap to sit on.”

“-someone to love my farts.”

“-and my burps.”

“-and my habit of sleeping with the lights on.”

“You’re asking for a bit too much with that one.”

“Shut up.”

An hour or so went by, probably, of you both milking the term _‘boyfriend’_ , when, on the outside, you heard something metallic bang. It sounded like the shoe rack, like someone was back. Sitting up, you held your breath while she ranted, and it was not until Shownu had stepped inside, that you cut her off. And you did it _loud_.

“Sorry, I can’t cry with you anymore about the single life.” You paused, batting your eyelashes at him, who stood rooted with an eyebrow raised. _Questioning, waiting, so so hot._

“I may not have a boyfriend, but I do have this friend who’s”- another pause, a harsh lip-bite - “some fine _boyfriend material_ , so bye”, saying, you cut the call.

He hadn’t moved. You drank in the sight of him, like it was air without which breathing wouldn’t happen, but the more you took him in, the more you were bursting. With all that air, like a damn balloon, everything became too much, and breathing wasn’t happening.

A simple white tee, striped black at the sleeves. Sweatpants. Shoes. Socks. Pieces of the most mundane everyday clothing, so why did he look so royal, so _majestic_? Maybe, you thought, cause he was the king of that thing that beat behind your chest. The stupid weak thing that carried out the mammoth task of keeping you alive, but also somehow managed to lose all its shit when he was around.

You sashayed towards him.

“How was your day?”

He bit his lip, keeping the smirk from spreading too far.

“Turning out to be great.” Then he added, “Bud.”

You let out a silent groan. This was the problem with Shownu. His signals were definitely not subtle, but they also weren’t the strongest. He’d cross a line, but just as soon, he’d step back. Like nothing had happened at all.

You walked past, stopping right behind him. He didn’t turn around, didn’t move. Heavy breathing. In a trance, you watched as the fabric glued and unglued itself to his skin. Unthinkingly, you lifted a hand and gripped his arm. Shoulders perked up.

“What are you doing?”

So deep, so low, that question had come from the very bottom of an ancient well, and you shuddered.

“Nunu must be so sore~”, you whined, cussing internally when, in what was a really pathetic turn of events, your voice broke. A raspy chuckle.

“Yeah?”, he taunted, making you gulp. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“I-“, you cleared your throat. “I will give you a massage.”

You felt the muscles tense beneath your fingers. Some kind of energy began coursing through you.

But then, “Are you sure?”, he mused. “Your cute little hands wouldn’t last long on this big man.”

Eyes growing wide painfully slow, you looked down. This wasn’t the first time that he had delivered a demeaning compliment to your hands.

In this moment, though, something was different. It wasn’t just about your hands keeping up with his arms, no, the bigger, more searing question was, _could you keep up with him?_

Tying your arms around his waist, you crashed into his back. Cheek pressing against the sweaty shirt, a breath got caught somewhere.

You tightened the knot. Dug further. You weren’t letting go.

_But._

The order came, loud and clear.

“ **Let go**.”

You shook your head. Furious. _Please_ , you pleaded, _don’t send me back. I don’t want to be friends anymore. Please-_

“I’ve gotta shower. **Let go**.”

Iron fists punched you in the gut. Again and again. The sandwich you had for lunch, locked-away screams, bloody cries, half a cup of lemonade- everything rose, it was all coming up. You let your arms fall, he stepped forward. _Pop!_ Something ruptured inside then, from the way you held it in. Kept your head down. _I need a minute_ , you were telling no one in particular, _and then I’ll be gone. Just a-_

“ _You_!”, he yelled.

Wincing, you looked up slightly. So very slightly that you couldn’t even see him moving, the way he was now, very quickly, charging at you.

So when the lips landed all over your face, in quick succession, it felt like you were being attacked. By a shower of bullets. You felt faint, you wanted to fall, but he held you close and he held you tight. Kisses. Kisses, more kisses, yet none of them ambushed the _right_ place.

“Shownu!”, you drawled frustratedly, eyes squeezing shut. Immediately, the pecks stopped raining, and you heard him whisper.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but you hugged me out of nowhere and I freaked and you look so beautiful. I thought- wait, is this not what you wanted? I’m so sor-“

“ _Yah_!”, you barked and he jumped. “How much stronger should I come on, huh?”

You stopped, sucked in a breath. He looked so adorably confused, you had to claw at your own arms to keep from reaching over and eating up his cheeks whole.

“Tell me! What else should I do to get you to kiss me, boy? Oh, and by kiss, I mean the _actual_ one. The kiss on the lips!”

Cold pink was the colour of his ears, making you grin at his suggestion.

“Um. You could. When referring to me, you could take the material out of boyfriend material-“

A giggle burst through your mouth. “Done.”

He sighed.

“Good, now come give me your lips.”

It was your turn to glow the colour of roses.


End file.
